Polly didn’t answer; she knew her sister was right. And it might even reflect on the whole family. Would any of them be able to find employment after this? Would they all be classed as troublemakers? She looked down at her sister and, for once, was moved to feel pity for the younger girl. Violet looked stricken and frightened. Polly touched her shoulder and Violet grasped her hand, clinging to it. She looked up, tears filling her eyes. ‘Oh, Poll,’ she whispered, ‘what are we going to do?’
Polly knelt down beside the chair and put her arms around Violet and the baby. ‘We’ll manage, Vi. Haven’t we always? We’ve got to be strong. You and me. For the younger ones and especially for little Michael here.’
‘You’re the strong one, Poll. Not me.’ It was a rare moment of insight and one of confession, as Violet murmured, ‘I’m a selfish cow. I only think of mesen.’
Polly hugged her closer. ‘Well, this time, Vi, I’m going to need your help.’
‘I’ll try, Poll, really I will.’
For a few moments longer, the two sisters cuddled each other, drawing warmth and comfort from the physical closeness. At last Polly said softly, ‘Come on, Vi. We must get some sleep – if we can. You take Baby upstairs. I’ll lock up and see to the fire.’
Violet was about to mount the stairs when they heard a soft knock. The two girls glanced at each other, their eyes widening in fear. Who on earth was knocking at their door at this time of night?
‘You go, Vi, I’ll . . .’
‘No, I’m not leaving you and don’t open it, Poll. Not until you know who it is.’
They crept together towards the door, bending close to listen before Polly called out unsteadily, ‘Who – who is it?’
‘It’s me, Poll. I need to talk to you.’ It was the last voice Polly had expected to hear.
In the half light, the two girls glanced at each other.
‘He’s got a nerve,’ Violet muttered and, as Polly reached out to open the door, she added, ‘You’re never going to let him in?’
‘I – I have to, Vi. I must . . .’
‘Then you’re on your own. I don’t ever want to set eyes on Leo Halliday again. Not as long as I live. And if you have owt to do with him, Poll, the same goes for you an’ all.’
With that she clasped her baby closer to her and turned for the stairs.
Slowly, Polly opened the door and gestured silently for Leo to step inside. Wordlessly, she turned and went back to sit in the chair by the fire. Uninvited, Leo sat down opposite her.
For several moments he sat just staring at her. Polly refused to meet his gaze. The silence between them lengthened until at last Leo said hoarsely, ‘Say something, Poll. Talk to me.’
At last she raised her eyes to meet his troubled gaze and now they stared at each other. ‘There’s nothing I can say – or do – that’s going to alter what you’ve done.’
‘What I’ve done? What on earth do you mean by that?’ Now anger crept into his tone.
‘You arrested my father and now he’s been sent to prison for six months with hard labour. That could kill him.’
‘He was breaking the law. Inciting a riot. And he attacked me – an officer of the law – I had to do my duty.’
‘Oh yes. Your precious duty. You put that before anything, don’t you? You certainly put it before any member of my family. You arrested him yourself. You didn’t even leave it to one of your colleagues. Do I mean so little to you, Leo, that you can’t wait to put a member of my family in jail?’
‘Don’t be silly, Poll—’
‘Silly am I? I haven’t forgotten that you’ve been hounding our Eddie for years. Everything that happens, you come knocking on our door, just to see if it’s Eddie. You even thought he’d been involved with painting the lion in the park.’
‘Well, wasn’t he?’ Leo snapped back.
Polly felt the colour tinge her cheeks, but resolutely, she lifted her head and stared him out. ‘How would I know?’
‘Oh, I think you do, Poll. I really think you know only too well.’ His voice was soft now – and sorrowful. ‘And if we’re talking truth here, I don’t think you’ve always been honest with me.’
‘I’ve never lied to you, Leo.’ And she hadn’t, though deep in her heart she knew she hadn’t always been entirely honest with him. But she’d been protecting her family and who could blame her for that? It seemed, now, that Leo could. ‘Well, I don’t forget, Leo, and I don’t forgive easy either.’ She leant closer to him. ‘I’d just like to know if it was your father who’d got into trouble, would you have arrested him?’
Leo’s face was bleak, but he answered at once. ‘Yes, I would.’
Polly blinked, for a moment nonplussed by the swift and firm reply. After a moment she whispered, ‘Then what chance have the rest of us got?’
‘Poll, I know it’s going to be difficult. I’ll do what I can to help. I’ll—’
Polly stood up suddenly. ‘You’ll do no such thing. I want nothing to do with you. I don’t care if I never clap eyes on you again. You or any member of your family. This is my father’s house, so you can get out now. You’re not welcome here any more.’
He stood up slowly. ‘You don’t mean that, Poll. We’re going to get married, we—’
It took every ounce of Polly’s willpower to say, ‘There is no “we”, Leo. Not any more. Not after what you’ve done. It’s – ’ she hesitated briefly before uttering the final word that would end everything; everything she’d hoped for and dreamed of was shattered as she said – ‘over.’
Leo shook his head slowly. ‘You don’t mean it. You can’t mean it. I love you, Poll, and you love me. I know you do.’
‘I did, Leo. I loved you very much, more than you can imagine. But now? Well, at the moment, I don’t feel anything much at all.’
He touched her arm, but she flinched away from him as if his touch burnt her.
‘You’re upset. Of course you are. And you’re blaming me. I can understand that, but, given time, you’ll see I had to do what I did.’
‘No, I’ll never see that, Leo. I think you could have helped him. You could have got my dad away, out of the trouble. He’d have listened to you, he—’
Now Leo was getting angry. ‘He wasn’t listening to anyone. None of ’em were. They were like madmen. Half of ’em were roaring drunk and your dad was one of ’em.’
Now Polly had no arguments left, for she, more than anyone else, knew what her father was like when he’d got a bit of drink in him. And she’d seen for herself William’s actions that night. She was bitterly ashamed of him, but still her loyalty to him was strong. She couldn’t turn her back on him or the rest of the family; they needed her more than ever now.
Lamely she added now, ‘I still think there was sum-mat you could have done.’
‘There was nothing, Poll. Nothing at all. I had to do my duty. I had to arrest him.’ Bitterly, he added, ‘I risked enough by keeping quiet about his real occupation. I knew why your father had said he was a labourer. He wanted to protect the railway workers and – I suppose – his own chances of being reinstated when he comes out of prison.’
‘Yes,’ Polly whispered, staring at him. ‘I thought that too, but – but why, Leo? Why didn’t you tell the truth?’
He reached out to touch her, but she shrank from him. With a hopeless sigh, he said heavily, ‘I thought it might help him.’
Polly laughed wryly. ‘You expect me to believe that when it was you arrested him in the first place?’
‘I’ve told you before – I had no choice about that. He broke the law.’
‘But if they find out that you didn’t tell them the truth . . . ?’ Her voice faded away.
‘Then I’ll likely be facing some kind of disciplinary action.’
For a brief moment, she felt the familiar surge of love for him; he had tried to do something for her father after all. But then she hardened her resolve and her heart. There was no getting away from the fact that it had been Leo who’d arrested William in
the first place. And for that she would never forgive him.
They stood staring at each other and then, with a little shrug, Leo moved towards the door. ‘If you won’t listen to reason, then I’d better go, but I’m not giving up on you, Poll. I’ll never do that.’
As the door closed softly behind him, Polly sank to her knees on the peg rug and bent double. Covering her face with her hands she waited for the tears, for the storm of weeping to envelop her. But no tears came.
Her devastation was too deep for tears.
Forty
‘Don’t come and see me again, Poll. I don’t want you to see me in here.’
Polly had gone up the hill to the prison to visit her father, but when she saw him she wished she hadn’t come. He shuffled into the room where prisoners met their visitors, his shoulders hunched, his hair long and unkempt and suddenly grey. His face was gaunt and yellow.
She swallowed. ‘Course I’ll keep coming, Dad. You can’t stop me.’
He smiled weakly. ‘Aye, but I can refuse to see you.’
‘Aw, Dad, don’t do that. Please.’
There was silence between them until he asked, ‘How’s everyone?’
‘Fine,’ Polly said brightly. ‘And Michael’s growing every day. I wish you could see him. He’s a lovely little chap and Violet’s doing a grand job.’ She forbore to add ‘now’. The time immediately after the child’s birth, when Violet might have rejected the little mite had it not been for Polly, would remain a secret between the two sisters.
‘And guess what, Dad?’ She knew she was chattering, out of nerves, she supposed. ‘Micky keeps coming round to see the baby. He’s admitted the baby’s his now. So we might hear wedding bells yet.’
William raised bloodshot eyes. ‘Bert’ll never let him marry our Vi. Not now specially.’
‘I don’t reckon Mr Fowler’ll have any say. You know Micky Fowler, Dad. If he makes up his mind he’s going to do summat, he’ll do it.’
After a moment’s pause, William said, ‘D’you think he’d be good to her?’
Polly shrugged. ‘I hope so, but Vi’s a fiery piece. She’d stand up for herself. And we’d all be around to keep an eye on her and the baby.’
‘Not for another five months, I won’t,’ William said gruffly.
Polly bit her lip, but this time she could think of nothing to say in answer.
‘Are you managing, Poll? For money?’
Now Polly plastered a smile on her face and said as brightly as she could, ‘Don’t you worry about us, Dad. We’ve managed before and we’ll do it again.’
‘You know, Poll, I never thought I’d ever hear mesen say it, but I’m glad your mam isn’t here to see me like this. It’d’ve broken her heart, seeing me banged up with all these criminals. Murderers some of ’em. And one or two, you’d never guess it to look at ’em. They’re ordinary blokes just like me.’
Polly fought back the tears. She wanted to shout and rage at him. Don’t you know you’ve broken my heart by what you’ve done?
Because now I can never marry the love of my life.
‘Right, Vi, now you’re back on your feet, I’ll have to see if I can get some work somewhere.’
Violet’s head shot up. ‘Work? What do you mean you’re going to find some work?’
‘I have to. We’re running out of money. Eddie gives me nearly all his wages now. He’s been really good.’ She had difficulty in keeping the surprise out of her tone. ‘And Stevie hands over every penny of the money he earns on a weekend for Mr Wilmott. And he’s still bringing home vegetables and fruit on a Saturday night. But it’s still not enough.’
Violet’s voice rose. ‘You mean you’re expecting me to do all the housework? The washing and cooking and cleaning and look after Michael.’
‘It’s what mothers do, Vi. You’re no different to anyone else who’s had a bairn.’
‘Oh yes, I am. I’m only seventeen. I’ve a right to a bit of life.’
Polly raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, and I hadn’t, I suppose, when I took over looking after the family at thirteen?’
Violet pouted. Then suddenly she smiled and put her head on one side. Polly steeled herself; she knew that look. It was Violet’s wheedling face.
‘Why don’t I go back to Mawer and Collingham’s? I’d be paid more than you could ever earn. You’ve been off too long. Nobody’ll employ you now.’ Slyly, she added, ‘Not even dear Roland.’
The Longden family had certainly been shown the truth of the saying that you find out who your real friends are when trouble strikes. The Hallidays were lost to her, but Roland was a frequent and faithful visitor. Out of everyone they knew, only he and Micky Fowler came to the house and Roland brought little gifts, usually food, for the whole family to share.
‘I could ask him,’ Polly murmured.
‘Why won’t you let me work instead?’ Violet persisted. ‘It’s doubtful Miss Carr will have found out about the baby and . . .’
‘You’re the daughter of a jailbird, Vi. She’ll have heard about that,’ Polly snapped, her patience at an end with her sister’s selfishness. ‘And your place is with your baby. You’re still feeding him yourself. How do you propose to do that if you’re serving Lady What’s-her-Name with a hat when he gets hungry?’
‘He can go onto the bottle.’
‘No,’ Polly said firmly. ‘Breastfeeding’s safer for him than on the bottle.’
The two girls exchanged a glance and Violet lowered her gaze; she knew just what Polly meant. And for once she had to agree that her older sister was right.
But Violet had been right about one thing it seemed; no one would give Polly a job and as the money ran shorter and shorter, she was desperate. The shadow of the Union Workhouse loomed large. She began to go without food herself to ensure that the other members of the family never went short. Heartbreak, anxiety and now lack of food, made Polly look thin and tired. Her lovely red hair lost its shine and her eyes were ringed with dark shadows. But every week she trudged up the hill to see William and reassure him that all was well, though the lies were getting harder to make convincing.
‘I’m taking you out tomorrow night,’ Roland said firmly on one of his visits. ‘Dress up in your best black dress, Polly, with that little white lace shawl you wear round your shoulders. You look so pretty in that and we’ll go into town. I’ll book a table—’
‘Oh no, Roland, I couldn’t. Everyone will be looking at me and pointing.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘There goes that jailbird’s daughter.’
‘Of course they won’t. They won’t even know who you are. How could they?’
She stared at him, wanting to believe him.
‘Dear Polly,’ he said gently, taking hold of her cold hands, ‘just because everyone in this street – and maybe one or two on either side of you – knows who you are, it doesn’t mean the whole city does.’
She understood his reasoning and knew he was right, but she was still afraid to venture out into wider society.
‘Besides,’ he went on practically, ‘people are beginning to forget. They get on with their lives. The strike – and the riots – were dreadful at the time, but memories soon begin to fade. The strikers were reinstated and working conditions for the railwaymen are going to improve.’
‘The families of the folks who were killed or injured,’ Polly said haltingly, ‘aren’t ever going to forget, are they? Or forgive.’
‘No,’ Roland said. ‘Of course they won’t, but that’s the same for all kinds of war. And it was a sort of war, Polly. That’s what the seamen called it when they struck in June. But they were standing up for their rights, just like all the transport workers were doing. And they achieved some results. Perhaps not all they wanted, but things are altering, so some good came out of it.’
‘You’re condoning what they did?’
‘I’d never condone the violence that happened here – and in other places – but yes, I agree that it’s a working man’s right to withdraw his labour in protest if h
e has a good enough reason.’
‘And did they?’
‘Did they what?’
‘Have a good enough reason?’
‘I don’t know all the details, but they evidently thought so. It was union backed. It wasn’t a wildcat strike.’
‘What’s that?’
‘When workers strike without the backing of their union. Polly, your dad ended up in prison because he helped to incite a riot and even I don’t agree with what he did. He’d had a bit too much to drink that Saturday night. I was with him earlier in the George and Dragon. I tried to bring him home – ’
Polly hadn’t known this.
‘But he was too far gone to listen to reason. Him and Bert Fowler both.’
‘Bert was with him?’
‘Oh yes, but he sidled off when the police began their baton charges. So did Micky and your Eddie.’ He sighed. ‘Only William was fool enough to carry on throwing bricks and bottles – anything he could lay his hands on.’
‘I expect that was when Eddie found me,’ Polly murmured, ‘and brought me home.’
‘You were there? You were out in the streets that night?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, both nights. The Friday and the Saturday. Oh, not taking part, of course,’ she added hurriedly, in case Roland should think she’d been one of the raucous women shouting encouragement to the rioters. ‘I went out to see if I could find Dad and Eddie and – and then, I just couldn’t tear myself away. I couldn’t believe what was happening.’
‘Then thank God Eddie did find you and bring you home, else I might have been visiting you in prison somewhere.’
It was a weak attempt to lighten their conversation, but the effort fell flat.
Polly became aware that Roland was still holding her hands and she eased them gently out of his grasp, but her mind was working quickly now. If she accepted Roland’s invitation, at least she would get a decent meal. She felt the colour rise in her face at the thought of how she was using his kindness, but she was desperate, almost faint with hunger some days now.
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